He Ain't Heavy
by Tauna Petit-Strawn
Summary: Short Story dealing with one event in the Civil War.


**He Ain't Heavy**

The sun had set, but the general's voice could be heard bellowing the order to attack. Nick couldn't help but smile, his family had always told him he was the loud one. Guess, his family never heard the general. Men's voices and the sound of feet hitting the ground broke the silence of the night. Guns were fired, men fought with swords, and the minutes dragged on for hours, or so it seemed. By the time the battle was over men and young boys were either, dead, dying, wounded or fleeing for their lives. The ones who were unfortunate enough to be caught were shot on sight, the result of his general's order to take no man alive.

Nick chased one of the men only to turn the corner of a barn and to find a wounded man, wearing a confederate uniform, lying face down upon the ground. Since the other man had escaped, his first instinct was to shoot this man and finish him off, yet some force he could not see, insisted he kneel down and turn the man over. When  
>he did, his heart stopped. Only when he heard some of his men yelling and coming closer, did it start again. He jumped up and ran, go back around the barn and start bellowing that there were no enemy soldiers left in that<br>direction and ordered the men to search the other areas in earnest. The men obeyed without question.

The moment they were gone, Nick dove for the back of the barn, picked up the wounded man and ran into the woods behind the house. He'd been fighting most of the day and was tired, but it was as if extra energy was stored somewhere in his soul burst forth and pushed him onward.

When Nick he heard men's voices, also ones he recognized as union soldiers, Nick he quickly ran down a slight embankment and hid behind a clump of trees-even though it meant standing in water up to his knees. Nick turned the man in his arms towards him-in an effort to muffle his moans.

It felt like an eternity before the union soldiers disappeared out of sight. Again, Nick stood up and began moving as fast as he could. There was a house he knew about, a house with a doctor and his wife. They were known to be conscientious objectors in the war and had helped either side. They would not question his union uniform, nor the confederate uniform the wounded other man wore. His arms ached and his muscles felt as if they were on fire, his legs groaned with every step he took, yet he had to keep moving or the man in his arms would die. He might still, thought Nick, but he pushed on anyway.

By the time he kicked the door to the house down, Nick's legs were covered with dirt and the mud from murky thick sludge he had been earlier standing in. His fatigue could be seen in his eyes. Dr. Jacobs was shocked to see the fatigue could be seen in his the eyes of the union soldier standing at his door with a severely wounded confederate soldiers lying limp in his arms. It was a shock, the good doctor had never seen before, such a sight, yet he did not ask questions, as he and his wife helped the stranger who had come barging into their home transport the other man to the sick room.

"Y..ou g..ot to s…ave h…im." Nick ground out, talking in between tortured gasps, his ribs nearly busting as, hurt and he leaned heavily against the dresser.

"Why do you care about a confederate soldier?" Mrs. Jacobs asked, as she came had come back into the room. Her son who was living with them was also with her. It's not that she minded, it did her heart good to see one  
>side helping the other instead of killing them. However, it also did made her curious.<p>

"He ai…n't no so..ldi..er, and he a..in't on the sou….th's si…de." Nick managed to say, as he was still trying to catch his breath, only by now he was sitting on a chair.

Confused the woman raised her eyebrows. "He's wearing a Confederate uniform and he's wounded. What are you talking about?"

Doctor Jacobs barked, asking them to talk softer; after all, he was trying to  
>save his patient's life.<p>

By this time Nick had his breathing under control and was able to answer. "He was asked to go undercover for 'just a couple of weeks' and gather some information. He can't die."

Mrs. Jacobs, after noting Nick's condition, asked how far he'd carried him. When he told her, and explained the ordeal he'd went through to get the man to their house, she shook her head. "How did you carry him that far, through all that? He would have gotten too heavy for you to carry."

Nick gazed upon the unconscious man and smiled wearily, "He aint' heavy...he's my brother."

_May, 1875 Jarrod's Journal_

_I didn't know until recently it was Nick who saved my life that night. I might __never have known except Dr. Jacobs' son traveled to Washington on family __business and, when he saw- and recognized me- told me all about that night, __along with the fact that the reason Nick wasn't there when I came to and was __transported to the nearest union hospital was simple. He'd had to hurry back __out in the dark, find his way back to his unit while coming up with a __believable story for his absence. When I cornered Nick and asked if it was __true, all he would say was "Someone had to keep you out of trouble." I had to __chuckle. I will never again complain about having to get that loud, obnoxious, __stubborn brother out of trouble. Like he said...he ain't heavy, he's my __brother._


End file.
